Page 32 of Sin Wager
"Now, Misha. Or I take over."
The line goes dead. I slide the phone back into my jacket and return to Vera, who's moved on to examining a display ofRussian literature. Time for being delicate about this is likely over, but I have to try. If Vera is who they think she is, then I can still use her, draw Sonya out. If not, then maybe the claim I've staked isn't for no reason.
"Dostoevsky," she says when she sees me approaching. "I've always meant to read more of him."
"Heavy material."
"I like heavy material. Light things don't usually last."
Another glimpse into her character, another piece of information to file away. Vera Kovalenko isn't interested in superficial pleasures. She wants substance, depth, things that can withstand pressure.
"Everything alright?" she asks, studying my face. "You look tense."
"Just work. Nothing that can't wait."
I force my expression back to neutral, hiding the edge that Nikolai's call has left behind. Vera doesn't need to know that her time is running out, that the investigation is closing in on her whether she's guilty or innocent.
I coax her away from the store, then away from another and encourage her to join me back in the hotel. The ride back passes in intimate conversation, Vera turning her new watch over in her hands and gazing out at the Moscow streets. By the time we reach the suite, the sun has set and the city has transformed into a constellation of lights.
I pour wine while Vera admires the view from the windows. The city spreads below us, all golden lights and shadow. When I hand her the glass, she settles onto the sofa with a contentment I rarely see from her. She's so relaxed around me. It almost makes me feel bad that I've chosen the long road with her. Almost.
"This is all very generous," she says. "I'm not used to being treated this way."
I sit beside her, close enough to breathe her in. "You deserve to be spoiled."
The wine brings color to her cheeks. I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger against her skin. She doesn't pull away.
"You're beautiful, Vera."
Her breath catches. "Misha?—"
"Let me have you again… Your body, your lips… I'm craving you." My hand slides around the back of her neck, fingers curling into her hair, and she lifts the corner of her lip in a smile.
"Batya says you're lavishing gifts on me so I'll give you sex…" Her eyelashes bat at me, and I smirk.
"Batya is a smart man… But I give you my word, as a man of my honor, I'm not spoiling you for your body…"I need to know what you know, I think in my head, but I don't say it aloud. Instead, I continue truthfully. "I admire you, Vera. You're brilliant, and strong, and incredibly beautiful, so intoxicating, in fact, that I'm addicted." My lips brush over hers and she smiles against them.
"You admire me?" she whispers, and her head arches back. I slip my fingers into her hair and pull slightly.
"More than you know…" The truth of the statement would bury me if Nikolai or Vadim found out, but it's true, nonetheless.
"Then admire my body the way you did before, and perhaps I'll let you have my soul…"
13
VERA
Misha’s mouth crashes into mine before I can take another breath. His hand knots in my hair, pulling hard enough to make my scalp sting, his tongue forcing its way past my lips. The taste of wine floods me, and the heat that’s been building since lunch ignites all at once.
He doesn’t wait. His other hand cups my throat, thumb pressing just under my jaw as he angles my head back. My pulse hammers against his palm. He growls against my mouth, deep and hungry, and my thighs clench together at the sound.
“You’ll give me every part of you tonight,” he rasps, his voice rough as gravel, his lips sliding along my neck. Teeth scrape my skin. I gasp, arching into him, already gone.
His hand slides down, gripping my breast through the thin fabric of my dress, squeezing until I whimper. He doesn’t soothe me. He shoves the strap off my shoulder, baring me, his mouth closing over my nipple before I can even register the cool air. The suction makes my knees weak, my nails digging into his shoulders.
His teeth tug at my nipple before he lifts his head, his mouth brushing my ear.
“You’ve been thinking about the way I fucked you,” he murmurs, his voice low and certain. “I can see it every time you look at me.”
